


Faithless

by the_many_splendored



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Cara Tries to Be a Good Friend, Catharsis Ending, Consent by Fraud, Decapitation, Delusional Kidnapper, Din Tries and Fails To Be Mean, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Failed Orgasm But Really It's For The Best, Heavy Angst, Kidnapping, Mind Games, Other, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Kit, Rape Recovery, Strangulation, Thigh-Riding, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, many many tears, post-episode 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_many_splendored/pseuds/the_many_splendored
Summary: Reader thinks that Din is never coming back for her and inadvertently falls into the trap of a rapist and kidnapper. Even if Din does come to the rescue, what happens next, and can Reader ever recover?
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Original Male Character/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	1. Apostasy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Auty_Ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auty_Ren/gifts).
  * Inspired by [All Tied Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506451) by [Korpuskat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korpuskat/pseuds/Korpuskat). 



> I'm not a sexual assault survivor, but this is based on a dream I had. Most of the listed tags won't appear in this first chapter, but PLEASE keep the tags in mind so that you don't set yourself up for trouble if you want to stay on with this story. This is gonna get dark, and I want to give fair warning.
> 
> Din will not appear in person until the end of Chapter 2.
> 
> The face-claim for the male OC is Cillian Murphy, and as we get through the chapters, you'll see why I made that choice.

**Day 1**

When Cara steps out of her Marshal’s cruiser, a chagrined looking Moff Gideon in her custody, you’re sure that Din is going to be right behind them. However, as you walk to the landing area, you realize that the Marshal and her prisoner are alone. There’s no sign of Boba, Fennec, the kid, or Bo-katan and her posse, and there’s definitely _no_ sign of your favorite Mandalorian. When you get within speaking range, the only thing you can manage to ask is, “Cara, what the kriff happened??”

She shakes her head. “Long story, but the short version is that we’re all ok. I’ll fill you in after I turn this idiot over to my superiors. Walk with us?”

Thankfully, the marshal’s station is close by, because as you stroll, you can feel the waves of malice coming from the Imperial officer in question. He keeps his mouth shut (for once), and once you reach the station, Cara quickly gets the transfer paperwork in order. After signing off, she turns to you and says, “Let’s go to the place around the corner, I know I could use a drink.”

After ordering a pair of jet juices, one for each of you, you and Cara sit down at a table near the cantina doors, and she starts to explain what happened. “Ok, to start with – like I said, everyone’s fine. No one got hurt, everyone’s accounted for – and given some missions I’ve been on, that’s a success.”

You nod in agreement, but you’re still confused. “Sure, but where _is_ everyone?”

Cara snorts through her nose, and you wonder if it’s her reaction to the often ridiculous adventures she seems to find herself in. “Well, that’s where things get sticky.”

“Sticky?” you say. “Sticky is not a word I like to hear.” You take your first sip of your jet juice, shuddering a bit as it warms your throat.

“It’s accurate.” She drinks about a third of her own jet juice in one go and launches into her story. “So when we got to Gideon’s light cruiser, Mando tried to disable those Dark Troopers that took the kid, but in the process, he met up with Gideon. I haven’t actually seen the tape, but apparently, Gideon was wielding the Darksaber, ya know, that weapon that Bo-Katan is after, and Mando defeated him and took it. He got Gideon and brought him back to us; we’d stormed the bridge – but Mando tried to give the saber over to Bo-Katan, and she wouldn’t take it.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “But it sounded like she’s been after it for years!”

Cara shrugs and says, “If I heard her right, it’s that the saber only passes by right of combat, so at least for now, it’s Mando’s. I dunno, I never really followed politics unless it was at the Alderaanian or galactic level.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, the Dark Troopers got back on the ship; we figured we were doomed – and then, right in the nick of time, a Jedi showed up, piloting an X-wing.”

“A Jedi? What was he like?” You only briefly met Ahsoka Tano when Din was considering her as Grogu’s trainer, and honestly, she seemed a little bit spooky.

“Young guy, a bit somber – damn effective though. Between his own saber and his Force abilities like the kid has, he took out the entire platoon,” she says. “I guess he’d heard that…distress call or whatever it was that Mando told me the kid sent out? Point is, he was there to collect the kid for training, as long as Mando gave permission.” Both of you take a sip, and as she finishes hers, she says, “I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it, but Mando actually took off his helmet to say goodbye.” You’ve still got a bit of jet in your mouth, and the burn of it is painful as you splutter in shock. Cara claps you on the back with one of her strong hands, and you catch your breath, your eyes watering around the edges.

As you get steady, Cara continues. “From what I can tell, sending the little one with this Jedi – I looked him up later, I think his name is Luke? – sending him off for training was the right idea. That said, Mando was pretty broken up about it, and on top of it, there’s the possible succession crisis with Bo-Katan. She and Mando decided to get dropped off in neutral territory; they’re meeting with a few experts to see what can be done about the saber. Boba came to pick up Fennec; I didn’t ask where they were going, and honestly I don’t want to know.”

You drum your fingers on the table. It’s good to know that wherever Din is, he’s not alone with his thoughts, but where does that leave you? Before he’d left on the rescue mission, he’d promised he would come back for you once everything was safe. You explain as much to Cara, and you appreciate when she gives you a pragmatic answer. “The way I see it,” she says, “Mando wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t mean it. I couldn’t tell you his timeline, but if he says he’ll be back, he’ll be back.” She offers you her hand, and you shake it as firmly as you can manage. “Don’t be a stranger, ok? If you need something, you know where to find me.”

* * *

**Day 9**

You’ve been promising yourself that you won’t use the private comm link that Din set up for you unless it’s an emergency, but tonight, you’re feeling especially lonely. As you boot up the connection, you pray that he’ll pick up, but you’re not entirely surprised when you hear the beep that means a message has to be left. The camera function clicks on, and you smooth your hair so it won’t look completely silly in the hologram.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Hey, it’s me…Cara got back last week, and she filled me in on…well, on just about everything. I know you’re busy, I just wanted to check in. That’s all, I guess…miss you. Bye…” You turn off the recording, and you want to scream at yourself for the tears that are springing up in your eyes. “This is pathetic!” you think to yourself. “I don’t even know if Din and I are actually a couple!”

It’s true – Din clearly cares about you, but you can’t say that it’s a matter of romance. He’s damn hard to read at the best of times, and even if his Creed didn’t present a barrier, he’s never touched you except to rub your back to help you fall asleep the one night you stayed over on the Razor Crest. Why should it matter to you where he goes or what he does? Of course, you don’t want to admit to yourself that you’re falling in love with him, but it _is_ fair to say he’s the most important person in your life right now.

* * *

**Day 25**

Keeping yourself busy with projects has only been partially effective, so when you get a surprise call from Boba and Fennec, you’re overjoyed. They’re both looking well, and while you don’t ask what they’ve been up to (you’d like to maintain deniability, after all), just having a chat with people you hope to call friends is a blessing. Unfortunately, the topic circles around to the one person who should be on this call, and your heart sinks when Boba asks, “Kid, isn’t Mando supposed to be with you?”

You sigh, and you see a sympathetic expression cross Fennec’s face. “I haven’t heard from him in weeks,” you say. “Cara told me about him having to get this Darksaber business settled, but he himself hasn’t sent any word.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” Fennec says. “I knew he and Kryze had to talk politics, but I was sure they’d have it sorted by now. I’d say come to Tatooine and spend some time with us, but I’m guessing you’re not up for that?”

You shake your head. “Not really, but I appreciate the offer.” You offer a small sarcastic smile. “ _Someone_ has to be the home guard, and I guess it’s me and Cara.” Before you sign off, you wish them both well.

* * *

**Day 55**

You’ve been taking Cara up on her offer to go out when you feel the need, but tonight, you feel better stepping into the cantina alone. You’re sure that if she were here, Din’s radio silence would come up, and you’re just not sure you can handle that conversation. You’ve left three more messages over the last several weeks, and not a single one of them has been answered. If you’re going to feel desperate, you might as well go somewhere that there’s at least a _chance_ of getting a drink, a dance, or anything else.

You’re not alone for long – after you request your drink and food, a smooth voice says to the bartender, “Hey, do me a favor and put the lady’s order on my tab?” You turn in the voice’s direction, and you’re greeted by the sight of a handsome man with dark hair, icy blue eyes, and a cheeky grin.

The bartender nods, and after placing your drinks on the bar, he scoots away to give you two a little privacy. You and the man salute each other, and you tip back your drink a bit faster than you might normally. After the liquor settles, you ask, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He shrugs, a playful smile on his lips. “Figured a gorgeous woman like you might want some company – and that if she wanted company, she shouldn’t have to pay for her own meal.”

“Gorgeous?” You chuckle a little bit. “Are we talking about the same person?”

“Sure,” he says. “I promise, I don’t throw around compliments unless I mean them.”

You find that the conversation with this stranger flows easily, and it’s a nice surprise the he doesn’t push you to get more drinks. However, you find you’re actually quite hungry, and the two of you end up sharing several small plates. Before you know it, three or four hours have gone by, and the bartender yells out that it’s last call. After your new friend settles up the tab (he said his name was Jackson), he offers you his hand, and the two of you walk out into the night.

“Miss, I’ve had a really great time tonight, and I’d love it if you’d come back to my place,” he says, rubbing his thumb over your knuckle. “No pressure though – if you’re not up for it, I completely understand.”

You squeeze his hand tightly in response and say with barely any hesitation, “Actually, I’d love that. You live nearby?”

Jackson nods, and about six blocks away, he brings you to a small, respectable looking house made of rock. You look it over with appreciation, and the man’s already cheerful grin grows even farther. “I’m so glad you like it,” he says. “Not everyone does.”

“Everyone?” you ask jokingly. “Are you picking up pretty young things so often that you’ve got an opinion pool?”

“Hardly – like I said, I don’t pass out compliments easily, so I don’t bring just _anyone_ back here. A few times though, yeah, someone has had something to say.” He shrugs. “Home is home, though.” Unlocking the door, he ushers you inside with a hand at the small of your back. Once you’re both inside, he closes and locks the door behind you and pulls you into his arms. “Can I kiss you, gorgeous?”

You nod, and he curls his hand almost possessively around the back of your head as he brings your lips together. The kiss itself isn’t forceful, but it’s deep – he slowly works your lips open to lick at them, and his hands are large enough that he can brush your jaw with the pad of his thumb. After a moment, he pulls away, but his arms are still tight around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, your hand rubbing his chest. “I really needed that,” you admit, and you feel him kiss the side of your forehead.

“What else do you need, honey?” he asks, his grip tightening just the slightest bit.

“I guess this is the time to be selfish,” you think to yourself. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you tell him. Jackson nods, and unwrapping his embrace, he takes your hand and leads you into what you assume is his bedroom. After seating you on his bed, he starts kissing you again, but this time, his touches aren’t so chaste. One hand unzips your top, exposing your bra, and then he begins to massage both breasts over the support material. You’re no blushing virgin, but it’s been so long since you’ve been touched at all that you moan low in your throat at the contact. He smiles in an almost triumphant way, and when you nod your permission, he quickly strips you of the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare below him.

“Where have you been all my life…” he whispers, more to himself than to you. Unzipping himself and letting his cock come free, he asks, “Beautiful, I’m getting hard as it is, but a little extra help would be appreciated. Do ya mind?”

“Not at all…” You bring your hand to stroke him, and the groan that leaves him when you make contact is almost as obscene as yours was. Those gorgeous blue eyes flutter shut, and as he hardens, you can practically feel his pulse in your hand. He really is beautifully formed – how is a guy like him single?

You know you’re getting wet, but you don’t want to stop your rhythm. Thankfully, Jackson opens his eyes again, and when he sees you starting to wriggle with arousal, he smiles and strokes your cheek. “I’m about to full hardness, honey – let me take care of you?”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

He steps just out of your reach, and going to a side table, he picks up a piece of dark fabric. You look at him questioningly, and he says, “It’s just to use as a blindfold – will you humor me and wear it? I’m told it makes everything more intense.” You can honestly say you’ve never done that before, but you did say that you wanted whatever he would give. You nod and let him blind you, and you hear him shucking the rest of his clothes before he gently pushes you so that you’re lying on your side on the bed. He scoots in behind you, and you can feel almost everywhere that his skin touches yours. “Are you still ok?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m good, I – OH!” You jolt a bit as you feel him reach between your legs.

He kisses your shoulder blade for reassurance. “Just trying to get you opened up, sweetheart. Can you take two fingers, or should I start with one?”

“T…two should be good,” you stutter, and when he slowly pushes his index and middle finger inside you, you could practically melt into the mattress. “Oh fuck…”

“It’s ok, I’ve gotcha…” He starts working his fingers, and with his other hand, he grips your wrist. “Have you been needing this, honey?”

“You have…oh god…you have no idea,” you sigh. “Don’t stop?”

You can feel him smile against your skin. “I won’t, I promise. Lift your leg a bit?” You oblige, and you let out a whimper when you feel his cock slide between your lips and start rubbing at your entrance. “That’s right,” he says warmly, “that feels good, yeah?”

“I need more,” you beg. “Jackson, please, I need you inside me…”

“I can do that,” he says, and he removes his fingers so he can guide his cock into your pussy. After he’s filled you almost to the hilt, he grips your hip tight. “Are you ready?” he asks.

The word “uh-huh” is barely out of your mouth before he pulls your hips to him and you nearly scream. It feels so good, but it isn’t an angle you’ve tried before, and the intensity combined with the lack of sight is almost enough to make you cry. However, he manages to ease the ache by gently rubbing your clit, and if he didn’t have both his hands occupied, you would kiss his palm to show your appreciation. You’re so lost in the feeling that you nearly don’t stop yourself when you moan out, “Oh GOD, D-“ Thankfully you’re not _totally_ cock-drunk, and you manage to say instead, “OH, goddammit that’s good…”

Jackson chuckles slightly. “You’re one to talk, honey – you’re squeezing me so nicely, it’s better than I deserve.” He peppers kisses across your shoulders and neck, his free hand still holding your wrist. “I can’t believe you were alone tonight before we started talking, I was sure as soon as you walked in you were gonna get swarmed.” In your opinion, he’s being too generous, but any objection is cut off as you feel your peak approach. Your breathing hitches, and he asks, “Am I flattering myself, or are you close?”

“I’m close…can you rub faster?”

“Of course,” he says, and he starts rolling your clit harder along with deeper thrusts. “I’m getting there too, I’m pretty sure…” His voice has been fairly composed this whole time, but you can start to hear him getting ragged, which only revs you up more. “Tell me,” he begs. “Tell me you want to come?”

“Please!” you hiss through your teeth. “Please, Jackson, I need to come, I want you to make me, please!”

“That’s my girl…” He twists at your clit one last time, and you come hard, your orgasm feeling like it’s bursting out from the base of your spine. He follows soon behind you with a few more thrusts, and from the growl in his voice, he got hit pretty hard too. The two of you both take a moment to catch your breath, and when he slips out of you, he says, “Do you mind answering something for me?”

“Sure,” you say. You notice he hasn’t taken off your blindfold, but honestly, you kind of like it that way. Now you can focus on trying to get your heartrate back down to normal.

“I wouldn’t ask about your private business, but I want to make sure I didn’t just accidentally fuck someone’s wife – near the end there, did I hear you say someone’s name?”

He doesn’t sound judgmental, but you still groan in a bit of embarrassment. “Ugh, I’m so sorry – but no, I’m no one’s wife. This guy I really liked never _actually_ made a move, and he’s got his kid to worry about.”

“Ah, I see. Let me guess, the kid’s mom is still in the picture?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, as far as I know, she’s long gone. He’s just married to his work – I haven’t heard from him in about eight weeks.”

Jackson kisses the back of your head, and you feel him move his free arm. As he reaches behind him for something from the same drawer as the blindfold was in, he says, “I mean, the guy’s a fucking idiot if he didn’t take his chances with you, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little relieved.”

You laugh a little bit. “What, that I didn’t turn you into an adulterer?”

“Not quite,” he answers. Suddenly a cloth is pressed against your nose and mouth, and you start to struggle as your brain gets clogged with chloroform. Just before you pass out, he says in your ear, “If he’s not looking for you, that means I get to keep you all to myself.”


	2. Damnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader learns the hard way how fucking twisted Jackson is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated some of the tags on this story, and that includes a big new warning besides the non-con and violence.
> 
> I mentioned last chapter that Cillian Murphy is Jackson's face-claim, and that's because the character is sort of a Star Wars version of Jackson Rippner from "Red Eye". However, I also drew strong inspiration from Joe (You on Netflix) and Jack Randall (Outlander, STARZ). If you're familiar with either of those books/shows, you'll likely recognize some character and story beats.

You’re grateful for the dimness around you when you finally wake up. You can tell that you’re not blindfolded anymore, but you’ve got a slight headache, and the low light from a lantern next to you is a little easier to handle than full day might be. You don’t think you’re still in Jackson’s bedroom, but you know you’re not home either. Did you just have some horrible nightmare?

As you sit up from the cot you’re on, you realize that you’re chained by your ankle to a pinion in the wall, and there’s a pile of silken rope on the floor. You should be terrified, but the only thing you can manage to say is an aggravated, “GodFUCKINGdammit…”

A hinge suddenly squeaks on the opposite wall, and Jackson walks through a now open door carrying a tray of food. You quickly try to look beyond him to figure out where you are, but you’re distracted by the fact that the door…doesn’t seem to have any structure. You know you heard a hinge, but you can’t see it, and you realize there’s barely any seam on the door itself. Even when Jackson turns up the lantern, you can’t get any clarity on what you’re seeing. You’re distracted enough that when he sets something down and taps your chin to make you look at him, you jump.

Jackson doesn’t notice your discomfort. His smile is oddly pleasant, and as he brings the tray over, he kisses your cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When you don’t return his affection, he has the goddamn nerve to look disappointed. He picks up a spoon and offers you a bite of oatmeal, and as you eat, he says, “You know, gorgeous, a little appreciation would go a long way for your situation here.”

You swallow and shoot him the dirtiest look you can manage. “I’m supposed to appreciate that a kidnapper and a liar gave me breakfast?” you ask. “Give me a fuckin’ break.”

How dare he look hurt? How dare he look like _you’ve_ offended _him_? There’s a smudge on your cheek, and he brushes it away with those same clever fingers that brought you such pleasure last night. He sighs heavily. “I’ll admit to that first part, but if you remember, honey – I never lied to you once, did I?”

“Yes you did, you…you…” Shit. He’s right. There was nothing last night that he said that was untrue. You know you’re not going to win this argument with him. You turn away, and he kisses your forehead with what feels like sincerity. “I really do like you. Eat up, ok?”

* * *

You have no idea how long it’s been, and you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jackson is appallingly sweet to you as the days drag on. Every meal is delivered with a smile and a kiss, and at night (or at least you assume it’s night, you can’t really tell the time in this place), he’ll bring in something for you to read, or he’ll bring a book for himself and set on some music for you. God help you both, you think he really is happy that you’re there.

One night, he brings in a book for you as he’s done before, but before you can reach for it, he says, “Actually, I’d like to read to _you,_ honey. I think I’m pretty good at it.” You’re suspicious, but the book’s cover is simple, and you don’t recognize the title. Can’t be anything that bad, right? 

For a few minutes, it’s fine – you can follow the narrative easily enough, and Jackson’s voice has a good rhythm to it. However, when he turns a particular page, Jackson gets an eerie smile on his face that you’re not sure you want to interpret. “I think you’ll really like this part,” he says, and starts in on the next chapter.

The story continues on – and it becomes clear that the two leads are going to be fucking each other. You roll your eyes at some of the ridiculous imagery – but at the same time, you feel a slight twist of arousal in your gut. Is Jackson doing this on purpose? He hasn’t touched you since that night he brought you home. You squeeze your legs together slightly, praying he doesn’t notice.

You get away with it for about two minutes, but Jackson’s a capable narrator, and as he continues, you feel your breath getting tight in your chest. When you hitch on an inhale, he looks over at you with a fake casual expression. “Something wrong?”

Damn him, _of course_ he knows what he’s doing. You shake your head, but your eyes must give you away, because he smiles again. “You only have to ask, honey, and I’ll take care of you. Just say the words.”

_So this is how the fucking shoe drops_. You’re not going to give in. Trying to ground yourself, you curl your hands into fists, and you look him dead in the eye. “Here’s some words – I _despise_ you.”

His eyes look briefly wounded, but he shrugs it off. “Maybe you do, but the offer still stands.” He puts the book down for a moment and sits down next to you on your cot. You lean away, but he catches you behind the head, his thumb stroking your pulse point. You can tell your heart is hammering away, and unfortunately it’s obvious to him too. Leaning in, he speaks in your ear, “You know I know how to make you feel good – just tell me what you need.”

You shake your head again. “Not gonna happen.”

“If you say so, honey – but I can’t let you get any ideas.” He reaches over to the silks that are on the floor, and with a tug that you realize could break your hand in a different context, he takes your wrists and binds them behind your back. You’re a little off-balance from how he grabbed you, and he leans you back against the wall. “If you’ll excuse me,” he says, “I believe I had some reading I was doing.”

Instead of going back to his chair, he grabs his book and brings it back over. He continues the narration, and damn him, he apparently picked the work that has the _longest_ sex scene in the history of literature. Most things you’ve read wrap up the sexual stuff within a few pages, but this? This is going on forever, and you’re really starting to throb. By the time the scene finally end, you’re nearly in tears of frustration. A small “…please…” escapes your lips, and you want to fucking die.

Jackson looks so smugly triumphant that you wish you could get free and punch his stupid face. “What was that, gorgeous? I couldn’t quite hear ya.”

Your voice is still low from shame. “Please…I want to come…”

He kisses your cheek. “That’s all you needed to say.” He moves quickly, leaving your arms bound, but unchaining your ankle so that he can strip you of your pants and underwear. Kissing the spot where the chain was, he says, “I wanted to do this our first night, but we were both a little desperate. Let me make it up to you.” Before you can ask what he means, he hitches one of your legs over his shoulder, putting his mouth on the inside of your thigh. He moves slowly, and by the time his lips meet your folds, you think you’re going to shatter. Dammit, why can’t you cry? Maybe then he’d have mercy on you.

No such luck, unfortunately. Your eyes stay dry, and Jackson eats you out like a man savoring fine wine. He seems committed to memorizing the shape of your clit and folds, and if this were a different circumstance, a different person, a different place, a different time, maybe you’d be bold enough to tell him to just get on with it. However, you’re completely paralyzed except for the slight tremors that roll through your body.

Even for how over-stimulated you are, your orgasm takes you by surprise. The knot inside breaks, and when Jackson looks up at you, you can see your slick on his lips. He slips out his tongue for a quick taste, and he smiles in satisfaction. “I should have guessed how good you taste, honey. Thanks for indulging me.” He wipes off the extra with the back of his hand, and then he resituates you so that your arms are free, but your ankle is bound again. “Get some sleep – I think we have a lot more exploration to do.”

* * *

The only word that can describe the next few days is **_HELL_**. Jackson seems to have convinced himself he’s a romantic hero - even when he forces you into more and more vulgarities, things you’ve never even dreamed of, he talks like you’re building a future together. If damnation is the total absence of light, then yes, this is it. If he has his way, you’ll be here forever.

However, for all his fine talk, he doesn’t seem to notice that his treatment of you is starting to fuck with your health. You’ve woken up multiple times each night to find him fucking you, and between the cognitive dissonance and the lack of sleep, you’re sure you’re losing track of reality. Was there ever a world outside? Din, Grogu, Cara…did they ever really exist? It’s almost a relief one night when Jackson tells you you’ve been talking in your sleep – hopefully that means your brain isn’t completely gone.

“I thought you weren’t involved with anyone else, sweetheart,” he says, withdrawing his spent cock and turning you to face him after he tucks himself back in his pants.

You’re so groggy that you don’t quite connect what he’s saying. “I…huh?”

“You’ve said his name a few times now – Din, is it?” His eyes have always been on the icier shade of blue, but now they look positively crystallized. “I thought you said you two were never a thing.”

“We weren’t, I – OW!” Before you can finish your sentence, Jackson has pushed you off your cot and pinned you to the floor by your wrists. “Jackson, what the fuck!!” This is new and _very_ bad – even through all the abuse he’s put on your body, he’s never been stereotypically violent.

A snarl forms on the edge of his lips, a sliver of the real monster coming through for once. “Did you love him?” he hisses, the grip on your wrists tightening.

_Holy fuck, he might actually kill you_. You stare up at him, gaping like a fish. “What does that matter anymore? I’m here, aren’t I?”

His voice is getting angrier by the second. “I can’t have you loving someone else, not when I’ve been taking care of you, not when I’ve been honest with you – tell me you love me!” One of his hands comes free, and before you can stop him, the free hand wraps around your throat.” “Tell me you love me!”

You know you’re sealing your fate when you say your next words, but you speak as bravely as you can manage. “Jackson, you’ve never lied to me – and I can’t lie to you in return. I can’t love you! Even if Din wasn’t in the picture, I could _never_ love you! What will it take for you to understand that?”

Jackson lets out a growl of fury, and you start to choke as he cuts off your airway. You scrabble at his hands, but it’s no use. Over the pounding in your ears, you can hear him saying, “You’re mine! Your heart, your soul, your life, your death, they belong to me! Do you really think I’d let you give them to someone else? Do you think your precious Din would even _have_ you after this?” The rest of his words begin to fade out, and when you hear a crack, you think he’s crushed your windpipe.

He suddenly releases you, and the cracking noise comes again. You realize as you cough that you can move your head, and when you turn towards the noise, you see the door in the wall starting to give way. With one more crack, it flies open, and you see a shape appear in the doorway. No…no it couldn’t be…Jackson scrambles to his feet, and as the figure steps in, you realize it _is_ Din, dressed fully for war. He has his beskar spear, but now he’s also carrying what you assume to be the Darksaber on his hip.

Jackson actually _storms_ up to Din, trying to get in his face. “Look, this is private property, you can’t just waltz in here –”

Din doesn’t let him finish his sentence. In one fluid motion, he ignites the saber and cuts off Jackson’s head.


	3. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader returns home, and Din opts to stay and look after her.

When you go to the hospital, it’s only Din and Cara in the room while the doctor handles taking your samples and photos for the rape kit. You’re sure the doctor is a professional, but you don’t want to be outnumbered by unknown parties right now, especially since she’s had you completely strip down. Din has turned to face the wall, and Cara is keeping a careful eye on the proceedings.

It’s not a fast process, especially because Cara has to take your statement, along with asking clarifying questions. When the doctor tells you that you’re done, your knees nearly buckle from exhaustion. Cara catches you by the elbow, and she asks, “Can we get her any clean clothes?”

The doctor nods and steps out, returning momentarily with a plain gray shirt, matching pants, and some slip-on shoes. There’s no bra or panties to go with them, but honestly, you’ll manage until you get home and can wear some of your own things. Cara helps you change, and when you’re decent, Din turns around.

“I would ask how you feel, but that seems like a stupid question,” he says. Looking at the doctor, he asks, “Is she clear to go?”

“I’ve completed my exam and we have plenty of evidence.” The doctor turns to you. “As long as Marshal Dune agrees, you’re free to go home, and I strongly suggest you get a shower and some sleep.”

“We’ll escort her personally,” Cara says. “Can you stand up?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, and you realize it’s the first word you’ve said since you gave your statement.

“We’re right here just in case,” Din says, and you offer him a weak smile. Taking a deep breath in and out, you straighten your back and walk out of the room, Din and Cara following close behind you.

* * *

The doctor was right that a hot shower is needed, and given how long you’ve been awake, your bed is calling to you even more strongly than usual. However, there are questions tickling at your mind. You’re able to dress yourself for bed, but you’re glad when you see that Cara and Din haven’t left yet. They’re both sitting in your living room, and when you take a seat on the couch next to Din, you ask, “How did you even find me?”

“It was a two-prong issue,” Din says. “Cara can explain her side, then I’ll tell mine.”

Cara sighs. “Even before I came onto the Marshal service, they’d had a series of open cases in the sex crimes division. Jackson looked good for a lot of them, especially from eyewitness descriptions. That said, he’d never abducted anyone, so when you went missing, I wasn’t sure if I should even consider him as a suspect. However, that’s when _he_ came in.” She points to Din.

He clears his throat, his normally steady voice starting to shake a bit through his voice-box. “I got back here and could finally check my messages, and I figured you’d be hanging out with Cara. But of course, when I got to the station and she said you were gone, I knew I had to find you. I did my standard tracking, but because of her authorizations, Cara could actually put out a warrant for your communicator.”

You raise your eyebrows. “My communicator? I haven’t seen it since that night.”

“Well, it wasn’t far from you that whole time,” Din says. “This guy made a fatal mistake, and he didn’t throw it away when he should have. He kept it in his bedroom.”

This is the part that you haven’t wanted to ask, but you’re sure that if Din were going to be arrested, he would have been in custody by now. “Ok, so that’s how you knew where I was…but…” you gulp. “Why did you kill him?”

“He…” Din’s hands clench inside his gloves. “He was using your communicator as a diary. When I opened it up, his entries from these last ten or so days started auto-playing – he detailed everything that he’d done to you. I tore the place apart looking for him, and I found the door to the “dungeon” almost by mistake. When I came through and I saw those bruises on your neck…” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

Cara cuts back in. “We took the communicator as evidence, and we’ll get you a new one. We have good guys who can scrub old devices, but file deletion isn’t always perfect, and we didn’t want you to get surprised.” You’re not sure that hearing a description of your ordeal would be worse than living it was, but you understand her point. She stands up and straightens her outfit. “I need to go – will you be good here by yourself?”

“She won’t be alone,” Din says before you can answer her. “I’ll stay over.”

* * *

Initially the next morning, you feel fine – not perfect, but better than expected. Sleeping in your own bed helps you work out some of the kinks in your back, and your sleep is generally dreamless. You smile at Din as you walk into the living room, and as you go past him, he stands up to join you. “Hungry?” he asks.

“I am,” you say, “but I think you’d better make sure I don’t gorge myself. I _feel_ like I could eat an entire star cruiser, but I don’t want to get sick.” Thankfully, your pantry is decently full, and you pull out some bread and fruit. “Can you cut these for me?” You pass the items over, but when your fingers brush his gloves, you jolt in surprise. You pull back like you’ve been burnt, and it’s only Din’s reflexes that keep your breakfast from hitting the floor. When you look down at your hand, you see that it’s shaking – it never did that before?

Din notices, and he quickly puts the food on the counter before reaching out to you. You back up instinctively, and he stops cold, almost to the point of looking like a statue. “Sorry,” he says. “Can I?” He indicates your hand, and you nod slowly. He gingerly holds it between two fingers, turning it back and forth a few times. After a moment, he huffs. “Ok, doesn’t look sprained.”

You tilt your head to the side in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“When you jumped, I thought maybe there was some other injury that wasn’t healing right. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t just made it worse.”

You shake your head, and while your voice is calm, you can feel your pulse jumping again. “No, he didn’t hurt my hand, but Din, please, you need to let go right now or I think I’m going to scream.” He drops your hand, and you catch your breath. “Thank you.” Walking past him, you put your food on a plate, bringing it with you into the living room. He joins you on the couch, and keeps a respectful distance, but you can see his hands curled tight on his thighs.

After you finish what you can handle, you turn so you can look him in the face (so to speak). He mirrors your movement, and you ask, “Just how much detail did Jackson use on those recordings you mentioned?”

His hands open slightly, but you can see his shoulders are still tight. “Enough,” he says. “He had so many plans…I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t find you in pieces. And like I said, when I got through and saw you had a neck injury…”

You nod in understanding. “I see why you made that assumption…but here’s the thing. Up until that day, that moment, he’d been…tender.”

“Tender?” Din sounds justifiably skeptical. “Sweetheart, I don’t – ”

You put up a hand to stop him. “Pet names, for example. And until that last moment, he was never technically violent. The reason he turned was…” You gulp, and even with the doctor treating the injury yesterday, there’s still a slight strain in your throat. “Well, he told his plans to me too, or at least some of them. He truly thought that whole time that he was making love to me and that we were going to live happily ever after. Apparently my mind was giving me away though because…” You wish you didn’t have to tell him this next part, at least not like this, but the context won’t make sense otherwise. “…because I was calling out for you in my sleep. Jackson said he wouldn’t let me love anyone else, and as you saw, he was willing to kill me to keep it that way.”

Din is deathly still, and you know it’s not because he’s asleep. He’s still tight as a wire, and it’s not helping your anxiety. “Din, please, say something,” you beg. You don’t like the desperate tone your voice is starting to get, but you need to know that your best friend isn’t blanking out on you. “Din?” For the first time ever, you see him _slump_. He sinks into the couch and makes a move to take off his helmet. You jam your eyes shut – maybe he just needs to get a drink of water.

“It’s ok, you can look.” You open your eyes – and the helmet comes off. You’d figured that Din was human, but other than that, you’ve rarely speculated about his looks. In a quick scan, you see tanned skin, dark hair, a trimmed mustache – and thank God, his eyes aren’t blue like Jackson’s. In fact, they’re the warmest, most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen. He turns on the couch so that you can look at him properly, and he asks, “Is it true?”

When you realize what he means, it’s your turn to slump. You heave a sigh and you say, “That I love you? Yes – it’s true.” His gaze is direct, and you find yourself having to look away. “And I’m not asking you to feel the same way – I just wish I’d told you _before_ doing something so monumentally stupid.”

His brow furrows. “Stupid? You were the victim of a guy on a hunt; you’re hardly being fair to yourself.”

“But he didn’t _act_ like a hunter!” you retort. “ _You’re_ a hunter! If he’d been like you when you’re on the job, maybe this would be easier to deal with! Why couldn’t he have hurt me sooner, why couldn’t he have called me names, why….” Your fingers tangle in your hair hard enough to make your scalp ache.

You see Din shift in your peripheral vision, and when you look at him again, he seems genuinely shocked. “You…you can’t tell me that you _wanted_ that?” he asks.

“What I want is for things to make sense! I want the most tender treatment I’ve had in ages _not_ to have come from a fucking monster! I want someone to acknowledge that I did a stupid thing going out alone! I want…” A thought occurs to you, and it’s out of your mouth before you consider the ramifications. “I want you to punish me!”

“WHAT.” Seeing the look on Din’s face, you’re surprised he hasn’t hit the floor in a dead faint.

“I mean it!” Before you can elaborate further, Din pulls you into his arms and kisses you. You shudder in his arms from the sudden contact, but then you wrap your arms around his neck and return the kiss.

He breaks from you first, and his eyes are apologetic. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking; I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s ok…” And surprisingly, it is – perhaps because his mannerisms are so different from Jackson’s. He was all polish until the end – Din seems unpracticed.

Taking your hands, Din says, “Look, I’ll do anything you ask me to, if it’s really what you want – but you’ve gotta tell me what’s ok here. You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop, yeah?” You nod, and he says, “I may say some fucked-up things, but take it with a grain of salt. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Ready.” The word is barely out of your mouth before he grabs your chin in a painful pinch, his eyes now cold and calculating. With how expressive his face is, you wonder if the simmering anger you see is play-acting or not. “Din?” you ask shakily.

“Be quiet,” he orders, and you bite your lip to keep from talking. “You’re mine; I decide when you talk.” He stands up and you don’t dare move, even as every prey instinct you have is screaming at you to run. Why didn’t you feel that way when Jackson first approached you? Din cocks his head to one side, and he rolls his eyes. Without warning, he grabs the collar of your shirt, tearing it open so that one breast is exposed.

“Such a whore,” he snarls. “You couldn’t even wait for me to get home to go looking for a random dicking – look where it got you. All this because you wanted to be touched?” He gropes your exposed breast roughly, and you hiss. “I asked you a question, slut.”

“Yes, I wanted to be touched!”

“Then I’ll be the one to do it, I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

His voice shakes right down to your core, and you whimper, “God, yes, please…”

“You’re not in a position to make demands. Turn around.” You stand up, and he grabs you by the arm, pulling you so that your back is against his chest. He rips the shirt further, until it’s hanging off of you in tatters. His hand returns to your breast, and he sinks his teeth into the joint of your neck and shoulder.

The bite is close to one of your bruises, and you genuinely howl in pain as Din’s teeth tattoo your clavicle. Your eyes start to water from the shock, and you swear you hear Din _chuckle_. “I thought you wanted to be touched – you should be fuckin’ grateful.” When you can’t answer, he twists your arm tighter. “Stupid girl, you can’t even use your words right.”

He’s always been so careful with you, but in this position, he could genuinely dislocate your shoulder. You manage to babble, “Yes, I know I’m a stupid slut!” It’s the truth, isn’t it?

“And that’s not even the worst part,” he says. “Do you know how it makes me look when you don’t trust me? I’m apparently the goddamn Mand’alor now, and there are people counting on me, strangers who’ve already given me their devotion and respect.” In a small merciful gesture, he loosens his grip, and your arm falls freely at your side. With a push at the small of your back, he shoves you, and you land hard back on the couch. He squats down to look you in the eyes. “How am I supposed to have them look up to me when my own woman has no faith in me?”

As your lungs refill, you ask, “ _Am_ I your woman, Din?”

“You shouldn’t be,” he retorts, and he reaches into his pocket satchel. Pulling out a small box, he flips it open, and you see a silver band inlaid with Mandalorian script. “Do you see this? If you don’t believe in me, I should go find someone who does and give it to _her_.”

_Fuck._ That’s when you feel yourself start to break. It’s true that you never expected his love, but you can’t stand the idea of him disappearing again, this time for good. You can’t imagine some other woman being at his side or raising Grogu – the very idea makes you sick. In fact, you realize your stomach is on the edge, and you kick Din hard in the chest. Thankfully he gets the message, and he gets out of the way as you run to the bathroom.

You make it to the toilet in time, but just barely, and you don’t even bother closing the door. You vomit up your breakfast – but it doesn’t stop there. For the next two or three minutes, your system seems to turn completely inside out. Maybe it’s your body finally expelling all the poison and horror of the last three weeks. Whatever the reason, when it’s over, you can barely move.

You don’t even hear Din’s footsteps; he just seems to suddenly appear in the bathroom doorway. “I’m ending this,” he says.

Your throat is raw from the sickness. “But I didn’t tap out.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “ _I_ went too far, and I shouldn’t have.” You look up slowly at him, and you see the fire in his eyes is gone, replaced with sincere regret. He offers his hand to help you up, and when you do, you fall into his arms and start properly crying for what feels like the first time in months.

* * *

After a bath, a change of clothes, and brushing your teeth, you return to the living room, and Din offers his arms again so that he can hold you on the couch. You accept the offer gratefully, especially because with how puffy your eyes are from crying, leaning into the beskar on his chest is cool and soothing.

He runs his fingers down your spine, trying to be soothing. “I really am sorry,” he says. “I should have put my foot down about “punishing” you; it wasn’t right.”

“I asked in good faith,” you reply. You’re both quiet a minute, and then you ask, “Was there any of that that you said that _was_ true?” For all you know, the ring was a convenient prop – and if that’s the case, you have to give him credit for a truly brilliant bit of improvisation.

He sighs, and the feeling of movement under your head is almost like floating on a wave. “Do you really want me to get into that?”

“I do. You did kiss me before we started this whole…thing.”

“I did.” He switches his hand so that it’s flat on your back, pulling you slightly closer – now your head can rest on his shoulder. From this angle, you can smell the slightest bit of musk from his throat. Even for how upset you’ve been, you still feel a slight slickness between your legs. “The short answer is that the proposal was going to be real. Half of the time Bo-Katan and I spent down range was hashing out what me being Mand’alor would mean for our family – especially if I were to take a wife.”

Your heart should be soaring, but you’re so tired that you simply curl up closer to him. “I’m not sure I could give you the answer you want,” you say. “You know how I feel, but after everything that’s happened…I don’t think I can get married, at least not now.”

“And I wouldn’t push you to,” he promises you. “My point is…I’m yours. You can decide what you want that to mean, but it’s true.”

You kiss his cheek, and you get even more of his masculine smell. “Was there anything else?” you ask.

“It _was_ true that when I came home and you were gone, I thought you were ending things. But even then, that’s not remotely your fault. I know I was out of range for…god, honey, how long was it?”

This time, the nickname doesn’t bother you as much. “Fifty-five days…and then I lost count.”

“That was absolutely inexcusable.” He tightens his arm around you. “And it wouldn’t have been ok even if you were never in danger. Yes, I have more people counting on me now, but if I haven’t earned _your_ trust and respect, none of the rest of it matters.”

“I do trust you, Din – now more than ever.” You shift, and Din sits up so that you can perch on his leg. “I think I need to learn how to trust _myself_ again.” You slide slightly, and the slight wetness causes some friction that you appreciate even if you hadn’t intended it.

Your arousal must read on your face, because Din asks, “I know this guy really fucked with your head, but will it help if I touch you properly?”

“I think _I_ need to be doing the touching.” You kiss his cheek again. “Is that ok?”

“More than ok,” he promises. “I’m all yours, like I said.”

With his permission, you kiss him fully, and while he holds you tight, he doesn’t pull you in closer like Jackson might have. Instead, he just focuses on keeping you warm as your hands start to wander over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach….your fingers catch a slight exposure of skin near his waist, and the huff against your lips makes you stop.

“I’m fine,” he says, “just a little ticklish.”

In a different circumstance, you might exploit that, but you don’t want to be cruel. Instead, you tuck his undershirt back in place, and you move your lips to kissing his neck. A small moan escapes your lips; that musky smell you liked earlier is even sweeter in taste.

Din does pull you closer then, and the pressure between your legs is both sweet and a little painful. Slowly, very slowly, you start working your hips, his thigh giving you just enough friction to feel wonderful. Din’s hands drop to your waist, but he doesn’t push, he just holds you.

You start to pick up your pace, and you can tell that you’re getting more wet. “I’m here,” he whispers, and when you lift your head, he swaps so that it’s now his chin resting on your shoulder. If you had to guess, you think he’s trying to adjust that direct gaze that startled you earlier. God, was he always this sweet, this considerate?

You’re not uncomfortable – it’s the best you’ve felt in ages – but you’re realizing, even with the warmth in your gut, you’re still exhausted. Your hips slow, and you hear Din’s voice asking, “Do you need help?”

You shake your head. “No – I think I’m just gonna leave it.” The two of you move so that you can look at each other again. “I’m still so tired…”

His mouth quirks, and you can’t quite tell whether it’s concern or disappointment. “Is that ok?”

You think a moment, and you nod your head. “Yeah, it is. My body says I’m tired, so I’m listening to it, which I couldn’t do while Jackson had me.” Your forehead is slightly sweaty, and you wipe at it with the heel of your hand. “Is it strange that that’s almost a relief?”

“I don’t think so.” Din sees another droplet running down your neck, and kisses it away. “Do we need to be anywhere?”

“Not that I know of.” Within three minutes, you’re asleep on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I know the ending is a bit anti-climactic (literally), but with Din at her side, I do think Reader is going to recover.


End file.
